Traffic
by Reading Redhead
Summary: What happens when Mulder and Scully get caught in a bit of traffic on the way to investigating a case? As it turns out, a deeper conversation than most would expect… Pre Jersey Devil. Complete.


**Title:** Traffic

**Rating:** PG / K+

**Summary:** What happens when our favorite special agents get caught in a bit of traffic? As it turns out, a deeper conversation than most would expect… Pre- Jersey Devil. Complete.

**Spoilers?** Possibly really small ones for anything before "The Jersey Devil"

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything that you recognize. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction on it.

**Author's Note:** This is just a quick piece that came to mind after I watched The Jersey Devil (Episode 1x05). It's supposed to take place while Mulder and Scully are driving up to Atlantic City to investigate the Jersey Devil case.

**Traffic**

The inside of the car was completely quiet. Sure, there were the usual sounds of other cars going past outside, but neither of the passengers said a word.

The driver tapped his hands excitedly on the steering wheel as the car whizzed down the freeway. Mulder was thrilled to be given a chance to check up on another case reminiscent of one of the X-files he'd reviewed over the years.

His partner didn't appear quite so ecstatic. Seated beside him in the passenger's seat, Scully looked down at the paperwork on the Jersey Devil with a raised eyebrow. Mulder could've sworn he heard the cogs moving in her head as she tried to find a hundred and one explanations that didn't involve something "supernatural" or "outrageous."

The silence dragged on as Mulder drove and Scully reviewed the file, occasionally snorting with badly-concealed disbelief. Finally, after they had been on the road for nearly half an hour, it had gotten to the point where Mulder couldn't stand it any more. Figuring he'd given his partner more than enough time to herself to look over the information, he found the dial that controlled the radio and turned the volume up, loud.

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A sudden blast of rock music startled Scully out of her concentration and made her momentarily glad she wasn't the one driving. She quickly found the dial and firmly switched the radio off, before looking up menacingly at the man sitting beside her.

"Had to make sure you were still conscious," Mulder said, his eyes fixed on the road. "I figured it wasn't fair for me to have to survive the traffic on my own."

Scully shook her head but didn't respond. She'd been working with Mulder for long enough to have learned that it wouldn't do any good. Instead, she gathered up the files that had slipped from her lap when she'd been startled and continued her perusal of the old documents and reports.

"You know, you're a very boring person to drive with," Mulder commented. "We've got at least two and a half hours in front of us. We might as well have a conversation."

Scully sighed heavily, giving up on silence. "On any subject in particular?"

He turned to look at her for the first time, and she saw that small triumphant smile once again stretch across his face. "So you _are_ alive. Just for that, I'll let you pick the first topic of discussion."

"How about the practical advantages of not annoying your only companion while in a small car on a long drive?" Scully answered, less than amused. If she'd been in charge, they wouldn't have been going to check up on something that technically fell under the jurisdiction of the local police.

"Is that a threat?" Mulder rejoined. "I don't know if there are any practical advantages—I'm beginning to think you're more amusing when you're annoyed."

Scully resisted the urge to do something drastic and uncalled for, though she did entertain a few images involving Mulder driving in complete silence while she held her gun to his head. "Change of subject," she said.

"Why?" he asked. "I was just getting started on the first one."

"Mulder, are you _trying_ to try my patience?"

"Well, I did just tell you you're more interesting when you're annoyed. So yeah, maybe I am."

Scully grumbled under her breath. "And you wonder why your partners don't last," she said to no one in particular.

"Actually," Mulder said, his light tone belaying his seriousness, "I don't wonder at all. I'm perfectly aware that my methods, theories, and habits are enough to drive any 'normal' person crazy. To be truthful, I fully expected you to be gone by now."

"So I'm 'normal'?" Scully asked. Usually this wasn't a classification she would have minded, but when Mulder said it, he made it sound like an insult.

"Well," he responded, seeming to weigh his words, "not quite. After all, you've lasted this long. Even some believers couldn't do that."

"And why do you think that is?" Scully asked, not expecting an answer, but hoping Mulder would understand what she meant by the question.

"Most of them only believe when there's no evidence," Mulder said, startling Scully with his response. "Once they're faced with something, they get scared. Yeah, they say they think all these things are true, but that doesn't mean they _want_ them to be true all the time. They start to turn paranoid. And then they wonder if every little childhood fear they had is real and true, and waiting somewhere to get them. Problem is," he said, turning to look at her, "half the fears are real. Most people don't like finding that out."

Scully nodded. She had to admit that whether or not the things she'd seen so far while working with Mulder had scientific explanations, they'd been…well, creepy. Weird. Not the sort of things they taught you about at the Academy. "Can't say I blame them."

For a moment it was quiet, and Scully hoped against hope that it could stay that way, but:

"Oh, don't think I'm going to let you off that easily," he said, smiling. "New topic."

Scully groaned and sat back in her seat. This was going to be a very long ride…

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"I am not telling you _that_!"

Mulder looked to his right and laughed out loud at the look on his partner's face. "Come on, Scully," he said, enjoying this subtle game they played. "I told you."

"That _definitely_ doesn't count," she said, turning to look at him. Her gaze was so fierce that Mulder was suddenly reminded of an X file about a being that supposedly could set people on fire just by looking at them angrily.

"Doesn't _count_?" he said, a tone of mock hurt in his voice. "Here I've gone and spilled my most embarrassing memory to you, and you not only won't do me the favor of telling yours in return, you've told me that mine doesn't count?"

"I'm not talking."

Mulder sighed. She made things too easy. "I guess I'll just have to guess at it then," he said, a glimmer in his eye.

"You'll never get it."

Mulder didn't bother to tell her that that wasn't his point.

"Let's see…" he began, fishing around for something truly weird. "Someone made you dress up for Halloween as 'Skull-y,' the skeleton." He looked at her, but saw that he hadn't gotten a reaction unless you counted the disdainfully raised eyebrow. "Not that one, then," he said, as though to himself. "You forgot your times tables in front of the whole third grade class and said that two times three was six."

Scully stared at him. "Mulder, it _is_ six."

"Is it really?" he said, taking his eyes off the road long enough to fix her with one of those contemplative stares that he suspected she hated. "Or has the government just been telling us long enough that we believe them?"

"Mulder, you're crazy."

"Scully, you're skeptic," Mulder replied, "and I'd say that's worse."

"You managed to get on the subject of conspiracy theories when we were talking about _multiplication_."

"Don't go slamming my conspiracy theories," he said. "After all, you've seen more proof of them than anyone other than me has managed to last through."

And then an idea dawned on Mulder. "Wait a minute…" he said. "I think I know why you're so reluctant to divulge your most embarrassing memory."

"I'm assuming you have a reason other than the fact that it's a very probing and personal question?"

"Oh, yes," Mulder said. "You're not telling me," his voice dropped, "because your most embarrassing memory is from about the same time you started working with me, and you realized that maybe—just maybe—there were things that all the science in this world couldn't explain. That maybe you didn't have all the answers. Of course," he added, his tone lighter, "this wasn't an acceptable explanation for _Doctor_ Scully. But you've been forced to learn the hard way that there _isn't_ always an acceptable explanation, and that hurt like hell."

Once again, the car was quiet for a moment, but Mulder wasn't disappointed by this particular lull in conversation. He'd spent most of his life searching for truth, about everything possible, and he'd come to the point where he could practically sniff it out.

This silence smelled a whole lot like truth.

"That's our off-ramp," Scully said finally, breaking a silence that had lasted longer than either of them had expected it to.

"Thanks," Mulder said, merging over a few lanes and turning the car off of the freeway. Though he had a feeling they wouldn't speak of this again, he smiled. He had found out a truth about Dana Scully—a small truth, but a truth nonetheless, and a truth that showed him that, given time, she could come to believe…

* * *

**  
Was it wonderful? Terrible? Please, take the time to review and let me know what you think! (I blame any inconsistency on the fact that it was written at ****4:00 AM**** on three and a half hours of sleep…)**


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